


In Your Dreams

by kittymaine



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Choking, Demons, M/M, Nightmares, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22747702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymaine/pseuds/kittymaine
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier work together to defeat an alp, but the shared nightmares start to unravel them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 135





	In Your Dreams

Alps were not especially dangerous monsters, but they were annoying and very difficult to dispatch. Geralt had dealt with them before and they were certainly unpleasant. They were cruel nightmare demons, infiltrating their victim’s dream world and drawing out their victims’ most deeply held fears and causing them to face them in graphic detail while feeding off of their turbulent emotions. Unpleasant was probably an understatement, but Geralt had faced one before and falsely believed that this second Alp could unearth nothing the first hadn’t already shown him.

On his first hunt for an alp, he had been assailed by dreams of being alone, of killing those closest to him, of looking in the mirror to see something more inhuman than he was used to but somehow still clearly himself. Terrible dreams to be sure, but nothing that he couldn’t face and ultimately overcome. So, when Jaskier insisted on accompanying him, he hadn’t thought it would make any difference. He was wrong, of course. He usually was when it came to Jaskier.

Jaskier was earnest, kind, entertaining and increasingly attractive to Geralt. He had at first dismissed him as a frivolous bard and indeed he still thought he was one. However, his continued companionship had broken down some measure of Geralt’s reserve and as of late he had found himself thinking very fondly on Jaskier. This normally wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the keen senses of the alp digging up these fond feelings and twisting them nightly as he slept.

After less than a week of tracking the alp from village to sleepless village, Geralt found himself going a little cross eyed. In his dreams he saw Jaskier, at his most beautiful and incandescent laughing and smiling below him before he crushed him with a misplaced hand. He saw a cruel and uncharacteristically caustic Jaskier mocking him and betraying him, leading him to his death again and again. Sometimes the dreams were disturbingly realistic, Jaskier maimed or murdered while traveling with him or while trying to shield Geralt from harm. More so than the fears unearthed by the first alp, these dreams broke down Geralt’s calm disposition.

Jaskier didn’t seem to be faring much better. Geralt didn’t ask him what his dreams were like, since he had no intentions of relating his own. It didn’t matter that they didn’t talk about them. The bags under Jaskier’s eyes grew alongside his own, their tolerance for one another steadily draining until they were constantly sniping at one another.

“Perhaps it would be best if we went our separate ways,” Geralt said on the tenth day as they traveled along the base of a mountain, circling around small villages and the trail of terrified villagers.

Jaskier’s tired eyes snapped to his own, his expression panicked for a moment before quickly getting angry. “Oh! You wish to cast me off, I suppose!” he snapped.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said in a warning growl.

“No, Geralt, tell me truly how much I vex you and how you would like me to leave you to your business. I am such a burden to you, I suppose,” Jaskier continued, ignoring Geralt.

“I am trying to tell you that it looks like this hunt will go on for some time. We are obviously both being affected by it. You need not go through this. After I defeat the alp, I will be sure to relate the story to you,” Geralt tried to be as level as possible, but instead ended up saying most of this through his teeth.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose. “You telling me how things unfolded will be about three sentences long, the most unpoetic thing one could possibly imagine.”

Geralt ran a hand roughly over his face, trying to control his temper. If he started shouting at Jaskier, he would start shouting back and they would get nowhere. He knew this, because they had already had this conversation a number of times and every time it devolved into a frustrating shouting match.

They were both quiet for a while, both trying to find some other turn this conversation could take other than the well worn grooves they had been talking in for days.

“Geralt, there must be some way we can catch this creature and be done with this wretched task,” Jaskier said tiredly.

This was something they had discussed before, though not during this particular argument. “I’ve told you, we must catch him while he torments someone.”

They had tried early on in the hunt, when it became obvious that the alp was aware they were hunting him and thus had decided to send them nightmares each night, to have one of them stay awake to try to catch the alp in action. On these nights, the alp would pointedly not visit them.

“There must be some way to tempt him into attacking one of us while the other is awake,” Jaskier muttered.

Geralt shook his head slowly. “If there is, it’s not something I am aware of.”

Jaskier put his thumb in his mouth and began chewing on the skin around the nail, a bad habit he had only started since they began this hunt together.

They sank into silence and didn’t pick up the thread of the argument again. By the time that the sun started to set, neither of them had come up with any new ideas.

Geralt pulled Roach off to the side of the road without saying anything to Jaskier and began to unload the things they would need to set up camp. Jaskier silently took over the tasks he normally handled and they had camp set up quickly and quietly, orange light from the setting sun still limning the edges of the trees around them. 

Once the fire started and their bedrolls were laid out, Geralt loaded up what weapons he thought he would need.

“There must be something we can do,” Jaskier muttered as he stared into the fire like it might hold the secrets to what he needed to know to defeat the demon that tormented him nightly.

Geralt regarded him for a moment. The flicker of the fire cast his face into deep shadow, making the bags in his eyes look even deeper than they actually were. His hair was uncharacteristically disheveled and his thumb was in his mouth again. Geralt could detect the faint smell of human blood coming from him. He must have bit open his thumb.

“He must be nearby. Try to stay awake, if you can,” was the only advice Geralt had to give. He knew it was probably useless. Jaskier looked exhausted. They were both exhausted. He wouldn’t last more than an hour or two by himself.

Geralt set out into the wood as he had many nights before. It didn’t take long for the orange fire light to fade and then disappear completely. It was unlikely that he would just happen upon the alp. Most of the legends about alps said that they only appeared when feeding. When not feeding, they remained incorporeal. He had a plan, though. He just needed to be careful.

Geralt made a wide loop, trying his best to keep his thoughts clear and focused on the forest around him, the sounds of animals in the trees and underbrush, the rustle of leaves in the faint wind from the west. Slowly, he made a circle, watching the moon rotate in the sky to judge how far into the night he had wandered.

When the moon was at its zenith, Geralt finally circled back to camp. He moved as slowly and silently as he could manage, which was extremely quiet. The fire had burnt down to faint embers by then. Jaskier must have fallen asleep pretty quickly, judging by how low the fire had gotten. This was promising for Geralt’s hunt.

As Geralt approached slowly, he saw it. The alp, a small brown leathery creature that looked like an emaciated child with particularly sharp bones and a small bit of stringy black hair on top of its dome shaped head. It was perched on Jaskier’s chest where he lay flat on his back by the fire. In the low light, Geralt could see the sheen of sweat on Jaskier’s skin, the belabored rising and falling of his chest, small moans and whimpers of distress as he twitched and fought the nightmare he was trapped in.

If Geralt was to attack it he would have only one chance. He pulled a short sword from its scabbard on his belt, the rasp quieted by a healthy amount of oil he had applied earlier in the day. He watched carefully from where he was hidden behind a small bush, but the alp didn’t react. It was fixated on feeding on Jaskier, its little sharp teeth displayed in a gruesome grin.

Geralt took three steadying breaths, trying to fill his chest with as much air as he could stand, aerating his lungs and flooding his blood with oxygen for the fight ahead. Hopefully it would be short and to the point. His iron short sword straight through the things chest and it would be dead.

Stealing himself and tensing his thighs, adrenaline already pumping through his veins, Geralt burst from the undergrowth with a great roar.

The alp’s yellow bloodshot eyes went wide and it turned toward Geralt. Geralt then seemed to see the next events in slow motion. He thrust his short sword toward the demon with precision, aiming for its heart. As he did so, the little creature arched back and out of the way while reaching out its long bony hand toward Geralt. He had too much momentum behind his thrust to slow or pull back and no time to adjust the trajectory. He missed the alp, his short sword skidding dangerously close to Jaskier’s delicate and unprotected stomach and the alp’s hand closed over his face.

As it did, everything went black.

* * *

Consciousness snapped back to Geralt like a blanket being pulled off of his eyes. The situation he found himself in was possibly more terrifying than the darkness itself.

The first thing he saw was Jaskier. He no longer was the exhausted and road worn version he had just left, with bags under his eyes and at least a few twigs in his hair most days. His hair was glossy and warm brown, mussed like he had run his hands through it many times. His skin was healthy and flushed and his blue eyes were big and wide in his face. His lips were red and shiny with spit.

He was also getting the life choked out of him. By Geralt.

“The fuck?!” Geralt shouted, jerking back from Jaskier violently.

As soon as he was free, Jaskier scooted back as far away from Geralt as he could, coughing and sputtering and holding his throat.

With some distance, Geralt could see that Jaskier was nude. He looked down at himself, panic mounting, to see that he was also nude.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, his voice barely a whisper. He was looking at Geralt with those big eyes. He slowly pulled his hand from his neck and there were already angry blood blisters blooming beneath his skin. “Is that you? I mean, the real you?”

“Who else would I be?” Geralt spat before he could think.

Jaskier looked at him doubtfully and then the truth hit Geralt like a shovel to the face. He had missed his shot at the alp. It had grabbed him. He didn’t know what happened to someone who was directly touched by an alp like that. But, he now was in a position he didn’t remember with a Jaskier who didn’t look like the Jaskier he had just left.

Geralt glanced around at their surroundings. He already knew they were no longer in the forest, but a closer look at the room they were now in solidified his suspicions. They were in what looked like a nice room you might get in an inn. Any inn, but no inn specifically. When he tried to focus on a specific detail, like a piece of furniture or window or door, everything became strangely hazy. In fact, everything he saw seemed to have a film over it, like everything was softened, the colors richer, the shadows inkier, the light warmer.

“Fuck!” Geralt spat.

“My sentiments exactly,” Jaskier groused, scooting a little closer to Geralt now that he seemed confident that he was no longer going to strangle the living daylights out of him.

“This-” Geralt stopped himself. He had almost asked Jaskier if this was what he dreamed about every night. Based on their nudity, their location, and how they were situated when he came into the dream it was pretty easy to imagine the beginning of this dream and the terrible turn it had taken. Geralt had many similar dreams himself, too similar in fact.

“This is a dream,” Geralt said in defeat.

Jaskier nodded in commiseration. At least, they were both lucid and Jaskier was saved from seeing this nightmare to completion.

“I found the alp,” Geralt said into the depressed silence that fell after his last statement. Jaskier seemed to perk up in anticipation. “I missed my strike and I guess he threw me into your dream.”

Jaskier’s face fell upon hearing the bad news. “At least, we’re awake now?” Jaskier rasped, forcing some optimism into his voice, even if it sounded hollow with his wrecked voice. “For a given value of awake, anyway,” he added with a wry twist of his mouth.

Geralt twisted his mouth and tried not to look at the bruises on Jaskier’s neck. “Do you know where our clothes are?” he asked instead.

“Oh, um?” Jaskier cast around, obviously looking for Geralt’s clothes. Just as he turned to cast about, something fell on the bed behind them. When Geralt and Jaskier turned to look, two rumpled piles of clothing lay on the bed. “Well, that’s convenient,” Jaskier said slowly.

Geralt frowned as well. They had wanted clothes and they had just appeared. He supposed that it was a dream and they were now lucid so perhaps to some extent they had control over it. He quickly pulled his clothes on, Jaskier following at a more cautious pace, then stood up from the bed.

He wanted to see what else he could summon. He held out his right hand. “I want my short sword,” he said firmly and the sword immediately appeared in his hand, no falling from the ceiling, no strange light. It just wasn’t there and then it was, in the blink of an eye.

“Very convenient,” Jaskier said from where he was still sitting on the bed, his eyebrows rising toward his hairline.

Geralt turned a satisfied smile toward Jaskier. “If this works, I’m going to buy you the nicest room in the biggest inn I can find,” Geralt told him. Jaskier immediately sat up straight at the sound of that.

Geralt held out his left hand and tried to focus his will and determination, taking deep breaths into his diaphragm to center himself.

“I want that fucking alp,” he barked and just like the sword, the alp appeared, it’s thin neck just brushing his hand. He clamped down hard and the thing got only a short wheeze of surprise before he clamped it’s throat shut.

Geralt gave the thing a feral grin, savoring the look of fear and surprise on its face for all the grief and pain it had put them through and then rammed his short sword through its heart.

* * *

Geralt made good on his promise to Jaskier, though it had to wait until they made it back to the seat of the lordship so that he could turn in the alp. Luckily, the little lord made good on his promise and paid Geralt handsomely for not only dispatching the demon but for returning with its body in generally good condition. It was chock full of valuable magical ingredients if butchered properly. Once he had turned in his bounty, he had more than enough gold to treat Jaskier to the room he had promised him.

“This is really unnecessary,” Jaskier said as he stepped into the top floor suite. His face looked so pleased that Geralt almost didn’t dignify it with a response.

“If not for you acting as bait, I never would have caught it,” Geralt said with a sigh, collapsing back on the huge bed. It was a goose down mattress, something he hadn’t felt in many years.

Jaskier sat primly on the edge of the bed and tapped his fingers on his knees. “It really is thoughtful of you, though I hope you don’t expect me to sleep in this big bed by myself!” he said with a teasing lilt, though at a closer look the tilt of his eyebrows looked a little fragile.

Geralt gave Jaskier a guileless look for a moment before responding, “I was hoping you would allow me to join you, though the choice is completely yours.”

“Oh! Of course, we should share! Though I might have been bait, it was your quick wit that found the trick to defeating that evil imp,” Jaskier enthused, that fragility to his face disappearing so quickly someone else might have thought they were mistaken in ever thinking it was there at all.

“Perhaps you might let me impose on you somewhat further,” Geralt said slowly, getting up onto his elbows and then sitting up so that he was crowding into Jaskier’s space.

The bard looked up into his face guilelessly, “Oh? What boon does my mighty witcher need of his beloved bard?” he teased.

Trying not to let his nerves get the better of him, Geralt leaned in and carefully pressed his mouth to Jaskier’s. Nothing untoward, just a gentle press. When he pulled back, Jaskier looked absolutely pole axed.

“Perhaps you’ll let me share in more than just your bed?” Geralt rumbled, still leaning in close. Jaskier remained frozen. Maybe he needed more of a push. “Since I already seem to be a regular occurrence in your dreams,” Geralt added with a raised eyebrow.

“You-” Jaskier choked out and then seemed to restart, gathering himself for a more forceful, “You! You scoundrel!” he shouted, smacking ineffectually at Geralt’s chest. He chuckled deep in his chest and leaned into Jaskier, who only smacked harder and slowly flushed red with embarrassment.

Eventually, he gave up on smacking Geralt and covered his face instead. “You could have said something on the very long trek here, you know,” Jaskier said into his hands.

“Yes, but I wanted to wait until we had a nice room to enjoy the revelation in,” Geralt said before flopping back onto the mattress and enjoying the way it exploded in a puff as he landed.

Jaskier peeked out between his fingers, his ears still visibly red. “What a nasty old man you are,” he snarked from behind his hands, somewhat muffled.

“I won’t argue with that,” Geralt sighed, putting his hands behind his head.

When no further barbs or shocks came from Geralt, Jaskier slowly seemed to control his embarrassment and when he pulled his hands away from his face he was mostly back to its normal color.

Jaskier kicked off his boots and crawled up the bed to look down on Geralt. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” he asked peevishly.

“Do you take me for the joking type?” Geralt asked.

“You can give a good bit of sass when the mood strikes you,” Jaskier said flatly.

Geralt’s mouth twisted down in one corner. “I suppose. But, I don’t think I am one to play jokes.”

Jaskier’s mouth mirrored Geralt’s for a moment, though he looked more pensive. “I suppose,” he said slowly.

Geralt moved his hands down to his stomach and thread them together there. “You believe me, then?”

Jaskier’s expression melted and he looked so sad and trusting for a moment that Geralt almost had to look away. “Yes, I suppose I do,” he said, before leaning down to press his own kiss to Geralt’s mouth. Even though it was very similar, a chaste press of mouths, there was something tender in the way Jaskier lingered.

Geralt looped one hand around his waist to stop him from moving too far away.

“Bath?” Geralt asked when he pulled back a little.

Jaskier gave him a shrewd but fond expression.

“Yes, let’s have a bath,” he agreed.


End file.
